


Wait for Me (to Come Home)

by dayindisguise



Series: Double Take [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Future Fic, M/M, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2015-07-06
Packaged: 2018-04-07 09:42:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4258587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dayindisguise/pseuds/dayindisguise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the prompt: "This is where he needs to be". Title (and some inspiration) taken from Ed Sheeran's "Photograph".</p><p>The days seemed to stretch on and on now, twenty-four hours feeling like a year. Time seemed to have slowed down incredibly as the two week venture had turned into two and a half months. Stiles was hard-pressed to complain, not wanting Derek to feel guilty for following his dreams. If all had gone according to plan Derek would have been home long ago, but Stiles had found that in his life… things don’t exactly go according to plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wait for Me (to Come Home)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Quinnster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quinnster/gifts).



> For my bae.
> 
> This series consists of two interpretations of the same prompt. The prompts will involve the same pairing, but no discussion is to be had on the content. 
> 
> You can find Quinn's version of the prompt, and Derek's, [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4249503).

When his Dad left in the morning, Stiles had stood at the door and waved goodbye, leaning against the frame and blowing his father a dramatic kiss. He succeeded in pulling a grin from his father, a chuckle that Stiles could hear in his mind as the man reversed from his driveway out onto the road. He waved for a few moments longer, until the Sheriff’s car disappeared from his line of sight, before moving back into the house and closing the door behind him. The lock clicked, and Stiles exhaled.

The Sheriff stopped in when he could, making the drive from Beacon Hills to Sonoma. Stiles would be lying if he said he didn’t appreciate the company, having another adult in the house to talk to instead of conversing with the television. It would be different when Derek came back. Stiles had to keep reminding himself of that fact. Their quiet house wouldn’t seem so empty when Derek returned with stories upon stories, and probably a few precious souvenirs.

He stopped in the hallway on his way back from the kitchen, glass of water in hand, and listened for noise coming from the second floor of the house. Somewhat satisfied with the silence, Stiles inhaled a slow breath and let his eyes wander over the framed photographs lining the wall next to the staircase. He climbed up a few stairs and sat himself down, the carpet plush and soft from wear underneath him. The pictures ranged from Stiles’ grandparents’ marriage, his childhood, through his school years, all the way up to present day. Derek’s pictures weren’t quite as plentiful, though there were more family pictures than Derek would have liked. He claimed to have been an awkward child, but Stiles only loved him more with every grinning picture of the lanky child.

His eyes settled on one of their favourite pictures, an “artsy” shot from Scott’s brief stint as a photographer (before he broke the supremely expensive camera and was forced to give his two weeks’ notice… and then spend those two weeks working overtime to pay for said camera). It showed Stiles and Derek, the younger man with his hands splayed over Derek’s cheeks, while Derek’s hands bracketed his waist. Their faces were shadowed from the sunset behind them, noses touching, lips almost pressed in a kiss. Stiles hated to admit it, but the picture made him blush, the pink warmth creeping on his cheeks matched the warmth of fondness and love that spread in his chest. Stiles hadn’t ever thanked Scott for the shot, had ripped him a new one instead for the “cheesy” and “clichéd” shot that could never sum up the “unique and spectacular” love that he and Derek shared. Even as an adult, Stiles would still depict their love the same way, wide grin and all.

Stiles sipped at his water, switching hands and wiping the condensation from his palm off on his jeans. The wall of frames was a mosaic of their lives before they met, and what had happened since then. For Stiles, walking down the stairs every day was like falling in love with Derek all over again, greeted by the tall, dark and handsome man’s face at the bottom, grinning as if to wish Stiles good morning. The picture could only offer Stiles so much, and he couldn’t wait to have the man back at the bottom of their stairs, in the flesh. Or even better, in his bed when he rolled over in the morning, stroking his hair back and kissing his lips before speaking.

The days seemed to stretch on and on now, twenty-four hours feeling like a year. Time seemed to have slowed down incredibly as the two week venture had turned into two and a half months. Stiles was hard-pressed to complain, not wanting Derek to feel guilty for following his dreams. If all had gone according to plan, Derek would have been home long ago, but Stiles has found that in his life… things don’t exactly go according to plan.

Now that the appropriate papers had been filed, Visas approved, equipment rented… and all of the nonsense that went along with it, Derek had promised to be home to Stiles within a month’s time. After spending so much of his time cooped up in laboratories, in classrooms with professors so out of touch with the world, Derek deserved to explore his passion in a real setting. The dig in Greece had been an opportunity of a lifetime; even if Derek was only there to explore, to be another mind to help synthesize information on behalf of his University, it was still an experience Stiles couldn’t let Derek turn down. The timing wasn’t fabulous, but Stiles could handle it.

His eyes settled back on the cheesy photograph, recalling the memory and the phantom feeling of Derek’s breath on his skin as they were pressed so close. To be twenty and young again, Stiles thought to himself. With a smile on his lips, Stiles gathered himself and went with his glass of water upstairs. It was still silent, safe for the soft padding of his bare feet on the carpet.

He sipped from his glass again, and leaned against the white door frame, his eyes moving over the soft green hue of the walls, the white trim, stuffed jungle animals in every corner of the room. Stiles remembered painstakingly hand-painting the leaves between the chair rail and the baseboards, and the broad, proud grin that lined Derek’s lips when he was finally allowed to see the room. “He’s going to love it,” Derek had said, and Stiles could feel the words against his ear even then with Derek thousands of miles away.

Stiles edged into the room slowly and looked down into the crib, his lips curved into a soft smile at the sleeping baby. It wasn’t easy doing this alone, not for a night, or an hour. He was thankful to have his Dad stop in, for Talia to make an appearance after the second week of no Derek, and for the occasional visit from Scott or Lydia. Moments like these made Stiles feel like he could definitely do this on his own… but it would be so much better with his beloved back, taking more pictures of Stiles’ awful bedhead and dark circles. There were only a few of those on the wall now, closer to the bottom of the stairs; Stiles liked pictures of the three of them, or just of Milo in “generic baby poses” one through seven.

Maybe Stiles was playing it a little too close, standing in the room of a sleeping baby. As he bent over the crib, Milo blinked his eyes open, seemed to stretch his little arms over his head, and exhaled a soft coo up at his Dad. Setting down his glass of water on the baby’s changing table, Stiles took this as an invitation to scoop the infant from his crib, his lips finding their way to the baby’s forehead.

“There’s my Milo,” Stiles crooned, his finger soon caught in his son’s tender grip, “Wanted to keep me company, didn’t you? Make me miss your daddy a little less? Mhmmm, you smart boy. I think that was _exactly_ your plan.” His voice remained soft as he padded from the nursery down to the living room, passing by pictures upon pictures of the baby, openly celebrating the six months since he had come into their lives.

“He’s going to be back soon, I think… Daddy can’t keep away from his little monster forever, can he? No way.” Stiles padded through the living room into the kitchen, and expertly manoeuvred one of the waiting bottles of formula into the bottle warmer on the counter. He flicked the switch, and went back to the living room, lightly bouncing the baby in his arms. Milo’s eyes were closing again, soothed by Stiles’ motion, by the softness of his words, the promise of another set of warm arms to wrap him up (though Stiles doubted Milo knew what he was talking about). If those big, thick arms were going to soothe anyone, it would be Stiles.

As he perched on the sill of the bay window, his back resting against the molding around the windows, Stiles lightly brushed his fingers through the dark hair on his son’s head and thought about how many times Derek had done the same to him: held him close, whispered sweet things to soothe him, stroked his hair back. Stiles was excited to be vulnerable again, to fold his body into his husband’s bulkier frame, to hide in the warm crook of his neck and breathe him in. He couldn’t wait for Derek to be back home. He wanted to share those sleepless nights with Derek again, to lie in bed in the afternoon with the wriggly baby between them, grinning at each other. He couldn’t wait for Derek to be back again, so they could properly be the Stilinski-Hales: Superfamily.

The bottle warmer beeped from the kitchen, and Stiles moved to his feet, stirring from his brief reverie to set the baby down in his bassinet. He needed both hands to check the formula. Even after growing into his limbs, becoming progressively less clumsy, Stiles was still prone to fumbling. He wasn’t about to fumble his son.

He plucked the bottle from the warmer and tested the formula’s temperature on the inside of his wrist, something he explicitly recalled Derek teaching him after a frazzled night of “How can I tell if it’s too hot? What if it’s cold? Do I have to drink it? Am I giving him my germs? How do I do this?!” He righted the bottle after testing the formula on his arm, and took a moment to himself. He had come so far in such a short time, growing more confident as the days passed. Stiles knew his mother would have been proud of him, proud of her little boy raising a little boy.

A noise startled him from his moment this time, thuds on the tile of their front room, boots moving against the doormat. His eyebrows lifted, and Stiles briefly brandished the bottle in his hands as if it was his Glock… which he remembered was at the station with the rest of his officer items while he was on paternal leave. It took him a moment to realize that he had heard the lock click, and the following thuds were the sounds of bags being set down. He rounded the corner, still holding the baby bottle in his hand, and found himself breathless at the sight.

Derek opened his mouth to speak, but words seemed to fail him. Instead, he crossed the space towards Stiles, who had started moving immediately after setting the bottle down. The space was closed between them in seconds, long arms wrapping around Derek’s frame, pressing all the air out from between their bodies and burying his face in Derek’s neck. The older man still didn’t speak, but closed thick arms around Stiles, lifting him slightly off of the ground, welcoming the tight embrace like a man starved for it.

“You’re home,” Stiles murmured after long moments of silence, the words pressed to the skin of Derek’s neck. It felt like years instead of the couple months Derek had been gone. Inwardly, he had been preparing himself for the big _What If_? _What if Derek didn’t come home? What is he came home different?_ Stiles’ anxiety was better managed now than it ever had been in his life, but in the quiet corners of his mind, Stiles had wondered if this was Derek’s escape plan. Maybe the baby was _too much_ , maybe _he_ was too much, and Derek needed a way out. Maybe he wasn’t actually in Greece at all but somewhere else that he could start a new life. Stiles was trembling slightly with relief that none of his _what ifs_ had played out. Derek was back, he was home. Maybe Stiles was just the right amount of _too much_.

“This is where I need to be,” Derek spoke in return, skimming his fingers through his husband’s hair and gently tugging on the dark locks. Stiles pulled his head back just enough for Derek to kiss him. Warm lips pressing to his own, slow and tender. It was the perfect “hello again”. Stiles felt sated, though the tremor under his skin was still present. He busied his hands on the sides of Derek’s face, holding him tenderly, feeling stubble against his palms and delighting in the friction he’d missed so dearly. Stiles pressed in for another kiss after he lost his breath in the first, his lungs aching a little with his need to breathe… but his need to kiss Derek trumped everything in that moment.

A gurgle from the living room, however, trumped Stiles’ need for another kiss. It was his call back to reality, the soft, happy gurgle from the bassinet in the living room. He separated himself from Derek, mouth hanging slack a little, feeling bruise and perfect, though he clutched the man’s fingers in one hand, and picked up Milo’s bottle in the other. “You’re just in time,” Stiles told him, and Derek’s face lit up like it was Christmas.

The bigger man couldn’t move fast enough, tugging Stiles with him to where his baby, their baby, was tucked safely into the bassinet. Stiles stood back for a moment to watch, his fingers separating from Derek’s for just a moment. He exhaled slowly, watched his husband lift their son from the soft bedding and draw him up to his chest, pressing soft kisses over his little face, over the tiny hands that reached up to touch at the smiling, stubbled face.

“I think he knew his daddy was coming home,” Stiles told his husband as the man settled into the couch, plush and inviting. Derek looked like he was in heaven.

“I’m sorry to have kept you both waiting.”

Stiles sunk into the couch next to him and shifted his grip on the bottle, tucking one of his arms around Derek’s body, his head resting on a broad shoulder. It took him a moment to settle into the couch, to inhale and exhale a big breath tinged with a smell that was all Derek. He looked up at his husband for a long moment, who was enthralled with their son’s gaze for the moment. Derek couldn’t have looked happier. Stiles’ lips stayed split in a grin while he started to feed their son, tipping the bottle so Milo could get at the formula with ease.

“You’re here now,” Stiles told him, lifting his eyes to meet Derek’s gaze, “which is all that matters.”

Derek simply nodded in response, drew Stiles closer to his body with his free arm, and placed a kiss on his husband’s forehead. It felt like Stiles had been the one away from home for close to three months, in a foreign land, without the loves of his life. He had been rescued the instant Derek came through the door and into his arms. Stiles wondered if Milo knew his daddy had been gone. He was thankful that the baby couldn’t tell him if he had. It would have broken Stiles’ heart even more.

“Just don’t make a habit of it,” the younger man’s smirk grew on his face, “You know… Gallivanting in Europe while I’m playing househusband.”

Derek simply rolled his eyes, shook his head, and exhaled a soft sigh.“There’s no place like home,” His tone was sincere, like the soft smile on his face. He pressed another kiss on Stiles’ forehead, on his lips, and rested back into the couch, watching his husband feed their son.

Home is the only place Derek always needs to be, and Stiles is never shy in reminding him.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [tumblr](http://dayindisguise.tumblr.com/)!


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